


Dance With Me?

by RedRedRover



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, This is literally based off of a dream I had, but with more work put in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRedRover/pseuds/RedRedRover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camille Montpetit didn't think moving to Paris would lead to anything other than frustration. Lucky for her, the students of Collège Françoise Dupont are there to keep her from getting too bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time actually posting any of my written work, so I'd love to hear what you think about it. Also, if you couldn't tell from the tags, this is an OC/Canon story. So if that doesn't float your boat, this may not be the story for you. Thanks for reading!

“See, look! She’s just sitting there!”

 

“Mari, she’s been sitting there everyday for nearly two weeks.”

 

“But, but… She’s sitting _alone_!”

 

Marinette and Alya were huddled behind a pillar in the pavilion, peering out from behind it. Across the room there was a girl seated with her back to another pillar, one hand holding her phone and the other holding a half-eaten sandwich.

 

Her long, dirty blonde hair had been pushed back at the bangs. It fell in waves and framed her dark, rounded face and amber eyes. She had her legs sprawled in front of her, jeans slightly worn and cuffs riding up just enough to see a pair of neon socks. She set her sandwich down on the napkin she had draped on top of her backpack, scrubbing her hand on her grey longsleeve before typing something out. All of her clothes were dark, save for the pair of socks and the electric yellow trim on her black puff vest.

“What’s her name, anyway? It started with a C or something, right?” Alya whispered. “Callie? OH! Celeste!”

 

“It’s _Camille_!” Marinette responded with a hiss. “And she’s been here two weeks and hasn’t made a single friend!”

 

Alya yanked her back behind the pillar just in time for Camille to look up, glaring across the room in search of the noise. When she found nothing, she shrugged, looking back to her phone.

 

“If anyone can break that girl out of her shell, it’s you Mari! Now c’mon! Work your magic!” With a rough shove, Alya sent Marinette stumbling towards the girl seated on the floor. Righting herself quickly, she shot Alya a withering glare before she stepped forward.

 

“Um, hello!” Marinette paused a few paces from the girl’s feet. Camille barely glanced up, cocking an eyebrow before letting her attention fall back down, stuffing a bite of sandwich into her mouth.

 

“Ya need sumfin’?” She mumbled around a mouthful of food.

 

“You’re Camille, right? I’m Marinette!”

 

“So I’ve heard.” Another bite.

 

“Um, is your sandwich any good? What kind is it?”

 

“Pheanut bubber n’ marfmallo’.”

 

Peanut butter and marshmallow? That was… kind of cute. Marinette grinned. If she ate fluffernutter sandwiches for lunch, how bad could she be?

 

“So how do you like Collège Françoise Dupont?”

 

“It’s big.”

 

“How about your classes?”

 

“The usual.”

 

Okay, maybe she’s worse than Marinette thought. She fumbled for her next words, glancing back to Alya for assistance, only to be met with a shrug.

 

“Well, um. I gotta go. It was nice talking to you bye!” Marinette let the words rush out of her as she bid a hasty retreat. “Let me know if you ever need any help!”

 

She didn’t expect a response, but she was surprised to hear Camille mumble out. “I’ll keep that in mind…. Thanks.”

 

Alya grabbed Marinette by the wrist as soon as she was within reach, leading her back towards Ms Bustier’s classroom. “Okay girl, wow. That was painful to watch.”

 

Marinette glanced over her shoulder as she was led away. “I don’t know, Alya. She doesn’t seem that bad.” She opened the door to the classroom with a soft _click_. “ I think she’s just shy.”

 

“Who’s shy?”

 

Marinette jumped as Adrien addressed them, him and Nino leaning forward over their desk to join their conversation.

 

Marinette stammered. “Oh! Adrien! She’s a- the girl in- you girl- I mean new you- I UM!”

 

“The new girl, Camille.” Alya jumped in to spare her best friend any more embarrassment. “Mari just tried to make contact. It wasn’t pretty.”

 

“Oh man, _Camille_?” Nino butted in. “Man, she’s intense. Like, hardcore.”

 

“She didn’t even go home for lunch.” Marinette murmured. “She sat in the pavilion for the whole hour.”

 

“You could be right, Marinette.” Adrien mused. “She doesn’t seem to talk to anyone at school. Maybe she has trouble connecting with people.”

 

Marinette couldn’t help but fluster as Adrien spoke. He really agreed with her! “Maybe, I don’t know, we could invite her somewhere? To hang out with us!” The other three puzzled over her words for a moment, before chiming in.

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Break her outta her shell!”

 

“The only problem is,” Adrien continued. “We have no idea what she likes. How could we find that out?” Nino and Alya shot each other a knowing glance, before directing their looks towards Marinette.

 

“W-what?”

 

“Wellllllll,” Alya drawled. “You did a pretty good job of getting _my_ phone without me noticing.”

 

Nino added. “How hard could it be to get hers?”

 

“B-b-but what if she found out?!?”

 

“Then you just say she dropped it! Easy peasy, girl!”

 

Wide-eyed, Marinette glanced towards Adrien out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be thinking intensely about the idea. Finally, he looked up to Marinette and shot her a winning smile.

 

“We _are_ trying to be friends with her.” He sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to take a quick look.”

 

Surrounded by the sly looks of her friends, Marinette finally cracked. “Okay, okay! But only for a little peek! No more!” The group cheered, Nino giving Adrien a fist bump while Alya slung an arm over her best friend’s shoulders.

 

\---------------

 

The slope of broad shoulders, the curve of long necks, the gentle, gravity-defying bounce of soft hair. Nathanaël could capture them all with ease.

 

So why did he have so much trouble with this?

 

Sure, drawing his classmates had seemed odd to him at first, maybe even a bit invasive. But as his thirst for improvement grew, his fear of judgement shrank ever so much. It wasn’t like he was singling anyone out, anyway. The pages that had once been reserved for Marinette were now joined by Alya’s signature smirk and Mylène’s fashion choices. Margins of papers now held the spikes of Kim’s quiff and the boxy familiarity of Max’s black frames.

 

Heck, he even had a few rogue doodles of Chloé. For as cruel as she was, her facial expressions held a brutal intensity that Nathanael found difficulty collecting better reference of.

 

He had drawn so many people of so much variation that it shouldn't be that difficult for him to capture _one_ person’s eyes. But the moment Nathanaël tried drawing Camille for the first time, it was like all his practice and talent had been thrown out the window. There wasn’t even anything particularly _special_ about her eyes, as rude as that may have sounded. They were brown, and wide, but nothing he hadn’t really seen before.

 

Or maybe that was the problem.

 

Once he took note of it, it was hard to stop noticing. Camille had _never looked him in the eyes_. When he walked up to his seat, her vision was trained towards their desk. When she passed him worksheets, she didn’t even give him so much as a glance. No matter how often they crossed paths, in French Lit, in Science, even in P.E, where the terrifying dodgeball duo of Kim and Alix didn’t even make her flinch, not once had he gotten a close look at those eyes.

  
There was a whole page in Nathanaël’s sketchbook now dedicated to crossed out eyes and erratic pencil scrawlings over half-filled faces, frustrated attempts to capture the girl who sat only a few feet away.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Two weeks earlier…. _

  
  


Far, far above her, the beige, staggered walls of Collège Françoise Dupont towered. The entire building a great, majestic piece, a tribute to France’s years upon years of gorgeous architecture.

 

Camille hated it.

 

Her fingers threaded the adjustable straps of her backpack, pulling until they left red marks in her skin. Steeling her nerves, she pushed through the building’s wooden doors. Her shoes smacked against the metal stairs as she climbed, freeing her hand from the strap to double-check the crumpled paper tucked in her vest.

 

_ French Literature _

_ Ms. Bustier _

_ Room 217 _

 

“Here we go,” Camille sighed, bracing her hand flat on the panel and shoving open the door.

 

“AH! Brilliant timing!” Before Camille could even react, Ms. Bustier had snuck a hand around to her back and herded her into the room. “Class, we have a new student joining us today! Give a warm welcome to Camille Montpetit!” Camille flinched as the room applauded, tipping her head away from the crowd. She hunched her shoulders, jamming her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

 

“As for seating, there’s a space for you right next to Nathanaël! Nathanaël, please raise your hand!” In the back of the classroom, Camille saw a slow hand and a flash of brilliant, red hair. “There he is!” Ms Bustier continued. “Now, if you could please take your seat, we will continue our lesson!”  

 

A girl with blue hair in two, round pigtails smiled at her as she made her ascent. Camille winced, giving the girl a tiny wave before continuing.

 

“Yo,” Camille let her backpack fall to the floor with a  _ thunk,  _ shuffling into the bench next to the boy. He smiled weakly, noticeably shifting his notebook away from her. She shot him a skeptical look and reached out to flatten out the cover, showing off a half-finished sketch. “You draw?”

 

Nathanaël looked away, nodding slightly. Camille shrugged. “Cool,” she released the edge of the book and turned her attention towards Ms. Bustier, leaving Nathanaël confused, embarrassed, and ever so slightly relieved.

 

\---------------

 

Moving from Moulins hadn’t been that big of a deal at first.

 

Sure, it was weird suddenly packing up and shipping out from the only place she’d ever known as home, but she didn’t really consider  _ Moulins _ her home anyway. Home was really just wherever her family was. No, the real problem with moving to Paris was with her friends.

 

Camille was never a shining beacon of good friendship to begin with. Making friends wasn’t a skill that came easy to her in any form. Now she was 300 kilometers away from the only person she considered a friend, and didn’t have a damn thing she could do about it.

 

Camille let the hours, and then days, begin to melt into each other. Her father was still a blur from the move, and the only glimpses she caught of him for the near week she had spent in Paris were glances of him rushing out the door to work, fleeting kisses on her forehead, and bag lunches with fluffernutter sandwiches sitting in the fridge.

 

After nearly a week had passed, all of Camille’s nervous tension had started to bubble over. Spending all day in a new school, barely seeing her father, and the only contact with her best friend being back-and-forth texts, it really started to take a toll on her psyche.

 

And somehow that’s how Camille ended up in an empty classroom after school, doing the only thing she knew how to do when she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel-

 

Dance. 

 

She turned up the music in her headphones until it pounded in her ears. She let the beat control her every movement, her feet sliding on the marble floor as she flowed into each motion. With each step, each note, Camille felt the weeks of anxiety melt off her body. She couldn’t dance at home, the apartment was too small, and her steps would be too loud to the person living below. But for now, this was okay. As the song neared its end, Camille laughed, twirling around and landing a simple finishing pose.

 

Someone was standing there.

 

She ripped the headphones off of her ears, blushing furiously and lips instinctively turning up into a snarl. Vaguely, she recognized him as the boy she sat next to in French Lit.

 

‘ _ Nathanaël _ .’ A voice prodded in the back of her mind.

 

He looked remarkably like a deer in the headlights, frozen in place and clutching a textbook close to his chest. Camille stared at the boy, who suddenly found himself fascinated with the tile floor.

 

“Well?” She tried to put on a rough air, but couldn’t stop the shivering of her voice. “You got-” Her voice cracked. “You got somethin’ ta say?” Nathanaël said nothing, grinding the toe of his shoe into the floor and fiddling with the edges of the book. Camille prickled. “If you tell  _ anyone,  _ I’ll be sure to-”

 

“You’re a good dancer.”

 

“...What?” Camille’s arms fell and her shoulders slumped, completely perplexed.

 

“You’re a good dancer.” He repeated, eyes still trained towards his sneakers. “It’s really... cool. Sorry for disturbing you.” And Nathanaël slipped out of the room, door sliding shut with a soft click.

 

Cool? 

 

He thought she was… cool?

 

A loud series of buzzes and electronic tones jolted Camille out of her thoughts. Her phone vibrated erratically in her pocket, signalling a new series of texts.

 

_ From: BFF <3 _

_ 4:34 PM _

_ whats up girl? _

 

_ From: Dad :) _

_ 4:34 PM _

_ Please be home by 5 tonight _

 

_ From: BFF <3 _

_ 4:35 PM _

_ still survivin at the new school??? _

 

Camille shot a quick response to her dad, before pulling up her friend’s message. She stared at the screen for a moment, trying to put her words together.

 

_ To: BFF <3 _

_ 4:36 PM _

_ Hey _

_ Something weird just happened. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty long, so brace yourselves!

 

As Ladybug, Marinette had seen a lot of strange and unusual things happening in and around their school’s campus.

 

But the sight of a petite girl absolutely hauling ass during their gym class laps? And in four-inch wedge sneakers? That was a new one.

 

Though Marinette usually spent her gym time quietly admiring Adrien and trying not to burn out all the energy she’d need for nightly patrols, there was something amazingly eye-catching about the way Camille seemed to outrun the majority of their class, even with her short legs and giant shoes.

 

“How is she  _ doing  _ that?” Marinette stared in awe as Camille passed up Max and Ivan on her way. “I can barely walk in heels that tall!” Alya nodded in approval, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

 

“It’s kind of amazing.” Nino added, taking a swig from his water bottle. “Girls strapping tiny stilts to their feet for fashion is impressive enough, but  _ running  _ in them? Dang.”

 

“I know  _ models  _ that can’t even move in those.” Adrien added, giving a small, approving nod.

 

“That’s enough for one day, all of you! Head out to the locker rooms.” Mr. D’argencourt clapped his hands, sending a flurry of students bolting for freedom. Camille was one of the first to the door, but a sudden shove to her side nearly sent her sprawling off balance.

 

“Ew, watch it new girl.” Chloé sneered, brushing off her designer shirt. “I don’t want your disgusting freak sweat on my new outfit!”

 

Camille’s lips turned into a snarl, baring her teeth. “Why are you even  _ here _ ? You didn’t do anything the entire hour.”

 

“Hah! I don’t  _ need  _ exercise to keep this figure. You, on the other hand.” She made a vague gesture to Camille’s thick build and short stature. “Probably need all the help you can get.”

 

Fists clenched and eyes burning with fury, Camille took a threatening step towards the pompous blonde, only to be stopped by a small, gentle hand that held her elbow weakly.

 

“Chloé, no need to be such a brat.” Marinette glared over Camille’s shoulder. 

 

Alya popped up over the other shoulder with a smug grin. “A great figure doesn’t make up for an ugly personality, anyway.” Chloé scoffed at the remark, turning up her nose and bustling away, Sabrina on her heels.

 

“Hey, don’t worry about her.” Marinette patted Camille on the back. “She’s really a jerk to everyone in this school, anyway.”

 

“Don’t worry, I  _ won’t _ .” Camille growled as she glared daggers into the back of Chloé’s retreating head. “And, um… Thanks. For sticking up for me.” Marinette beamed an ear-to-ear grin at Camille’s tiny sign of approval as they made their way into the locker room.

 

“No problem!” She replied.

 

Camille smiled, the gentle look almost foreign on her face, and Marinette nearly squealed. With a final wave, she made her way over to her locker, fiddling with the lock as she chattered with Alya.

 

“I think she might actually not hate me!” She quietly cheered.

 

“Well, that’s progress I guess.” Alya replied, “However small it may be. You got an idea of when you can get her phone?” Marinette winced as she pulled her shirt over her head.

 

“I just… I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Alya. She’s got enough trouble trusting people as it is.” Alya shrugged, patting Marinette on the back.

 

“Maybe you’re right. You usually are with stuff like this, anyway.” She smiled, ruffling Marinette’s hair. “Always the good guy, eh? I’ll meet you outside.” With a final wave and a familiar wink, Alya left the locker room, leaving Marinette alone. Sitting on the bench behind her, something quietly shuffled, and Marinette turned her attention just in time to see Tikki pop out of her shoulder bag.

 

“I’m proud of you, Marinette!” Tikki chirped. “Taking that girl’s phone wouldn’t have ended up well at all!”

 

Marinette gave her a gentle pat. “Thanks, Tikki. Besides, she’s practically glued to it anyway, how would I ever-”

 

_ Bzzt Bzzt _

 

Marinette startled as a distant, buzzing sound invaded her ears. Peeking around the next line of lockers, she saw a phone sitting on the bench across from her, screen blinking away.

 

“No way,” Marinette groaned, scooping up the phone and flipping it over. “I thought ladybugs were supposed to be  _ lucky _ .” Sure enough, The back of the case was electric yellow, a perfect match for Camille’s signature color. She glanced up to the empty locker room, then back down to the phone.

 

“I really shouldn’t pry.” She murmured, to which Tikki nodded furiously. But when the phone buzzed again, revealing a message from someone only labelled as  _ BFF _ , Marinette’s curiosity couldn’t help but get the better of her. 

 

“Just a tiny look. I’ll find out what she likes, and give it right back.” Hesitantly, Marinette swept her finger across the screen, ignoring Tikki’s tiny facepalm.

 

_ Click! _

 

The phone unlocked, revealing a series of texts.

 

From: BFF <3

_ it cant be that hard to just talk to him!! _

 

To: BFF<3

_ i cant!!!! hes really really sweet but i get nervous when i try talking to him. _

 

From: BFF <3

_ girl, this is soooo not like you _

 

From: BFF<3

_ you must really like this guy _

 

To: BFF <3

_ I think i do. i mean, hes really a nice guy  _

 

From: BFF <3

_ not like this is the first time youve had a crush. im rootin for ya, girl!!! _

 

A crush?

Camille had a  _ crush _ ? On someone in their school? 

 

Well, that sure changed things.

 

Bolting from the locker room, Marinette dashed across the pavilion and out to the front steps of the building. “Camille?” She called, whirling around for any sight of the stoic girl. “Camille, you left your-AGH!”

 

The back of Marinette’s heel slid off of the final step, sending her sprawling. Camille’s phone skidded wildly across the pavement, sliding to a halt at the base of a familiar pair of purple jeans.

 

“M-Marinette!” Nathanaël rushed forward to help the girl to her feet. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She dusted off her pants and smiled at him. “Happens all the time!” Marinette looked down to her now empty hands and was silent for a moment, before gasping. “Oh no! The phone!” She spun around wildly, searching for wherever it may have landed. “Where did it go?!”

 

“This one?” Nathanaël crouched down, scooping it up. He turned it over a few times in his hands. “Whose is this? Is it yours?”

 

“It’s Camille’s. She left it in the locker room.” Marinette replied, outstretching her hand to accept the phone.

 

“Ooh! That snotty new girl?” Oh no.

 

Before Nathanaël could hand Marinette the phone, Chloé and Sabrina had snuck up. Snatching the cell from his outstretched hand, Chloé began skimming through its contents.

 

“Hey! Give that back!” Marinette grabbed for it, but Chloé sidestepped out of her way and continued to scroll.

 

“Ooh, Sabrina! Listen to this!” Chloé pushed her voice up into a high, mocking tone. “He sits next to me in class, he’s  _ super _ cute.” She read from the phone, pretending to be Camille. “And you should see his hair! It’s like, bright red. Like cherries on a sundae red!”

 

Both Marinette and Nathanaël stared as Chloé continued to read and Sabrina tittered in the background. A slow blush had begun to creep its way across Nathanaël’s face, settling on his cheeks and nose.

 

“Knock it off, Chloé!” Marinette glared. “Give me back the phone!” She reached for it again, but stumbled as Chloé slid out of reach.

 

“I wish I could actually talk to him, but I can’t!” Chloé continued, grinning wickedly. “Aww, listen to that. The heartless new girl has a widdle cwush on our resident doodle boy.” Sabrina and Chloé giggled while the blush on Nathanaël’s face reached a new ferocious shade.

 

“S-Stop it, Chloé!” Nathanaël snatched the phone from her hands, yanking it away.

 

“Hey! What’s the big idea?” Chloé snapped. “I was only having a little fun! What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

 

_ Thump. _

 

Something heavy struck hard against the pavement, and the four turned their heads to look. Standing at the top of the steps was Camille, eyes blank and empty, her backpack lying on the ground near her feet.

 

All Nathanaël had wanted to see Camille’s eyes. Just once, just a glance where he could actually see what they were really like.

 

He didn’t want it to be like this.

 

Never had the word ‘broken’ fit so perfectly into a person’s description. Her eyes were empty, devoid of emotion as she stared him down. Somewhere, back in the still-functioning portion of his mind, Nathanael pleaded her to do something. Cry, scream,  _ anything.  _ Anything was better than the look of utter  _ nothingness  _ he was receiving right now.

 

Then, in a flash of motion, she was gone. Camille had leapt over the side of the staircase, leaving her backpack and phone behind as she took off into the streets.

 

“Camille!” Marinette bolted after her as she retreated, leaving Chloé looking smug and Nathanaël clutching her phone, a sickly feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Camille, wait!”

 

\-------------

 

In a dimly lit room atop a mighty tower, a window slid open, casting the harsh afternoon sunlight upon a man standing in a room filled with tiny, pure white butterflies.

 

“Moving to a new place can be so devastating.” He crooned, catching one of the butterflies in his open palm. “Especially when kids are so cruel to one another. Perhaps this one will finally succeed in bringing me what I need.” 

 

In his hands, the butterfly transformed, its wings turning pitch black, painted with tiny streaks of royal purple.

 

“Go, my precious akuma, and take control of the young girl who had her feelings so mercilessly crushed.”

 

\-------------

 

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Camille’s hands shook as she grabbed for her headphones and slid them up over her ears. Everything would be fine, she just needed music. Something loud; something to block everything out.

 

But Nathanaël had her phone.

 

Nathanaël.

 

“DAMN IT!” She ripped the headphones off and tossed them down at her feet, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She slid down the length of the wall, curling into her knees as the first hot tears began to fall. An inky black butterfly fluttered down from above, landing on her headphones with a spark of darkness.

 

“ _ Tiny Dancer, _ ” A voice purred in her conscious, “ _ I am Hawkmoth. I will help you to destroy those who dared to mock your fragile emotions- but you must do something for me in return. Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous. Bring them to me, and this power will be yours. Do we have a deal?” _

 

Camille looked up, red outlining her eyes. “Deal.”

 

The darkness crawled up her body and forced her into a standing position. Slowly, it dissipated, revealing Camille’s transformation. A black hoodie fell over her eyes, with the back of the hood coming up into a point, edges trimmed with lines of glowing light. Baggy black cargo pants with criss-crossing yellow belts hanging from their loops.  Her headphones hung loose around her neck, and the cord twisted animatedly around her body like a curious snake, bobbing gently to a nonexistent rhythm.

 

Looking up slowly, Tiny Dancer grinned. A wicked, wolfish grin, that seemed too big and too false for the soft curve of her face.

  
“Let’s dance, Chloé.”


End file.
